Not Here to Save Lives... At First
Yi Hyang.
I didn't come to med school to save people. At least not at first. It was for the money.
The emergency room lights didn't dim past three in the morning. Monitors beeped incessantly. A guardian was sobbing. The nurse clutched her phone, reporting nonstop to someone. Some yelled in anger; others screamed. And just now, one more had died. I closed the patient's chart. My shift had already stretched past thirty hours. My eyes burned, and my throat felt parched raw. The guardian wept.
"Doctor... was there really no way?"
I hesitated, no ready answer coming. Truth is, there's never a right one for that question. So most doctors fall back on the same line.
"We did everything we could."
That's what I said today. The guardian bowed her head. And sobbed harder. I stood there a moment, then turned quietly away. No words could comfort her—I knew that much. Nothing more to say.
Back in the on-call room, a nurse handed me a coffee.
"You okay, doc?"
"Yeah."
I wasn't. But no need to explain. I took a sip. The coffee was cold. Or maybe it was my heart that had gone cold.
Truth is, picking med school was simple. Plenty of jobs out there, but few pay steady and secure. Doctor was one of them. At least that's how I saw it back then. So I chose it. Looking back now, not a bad call. Just one thing I never saw coming.
People dying? You don't get used to it as fast as you'd think.
Dawn finally broke, ending my shift. Stepping out of the hospital, the sun was up. I tilted my head back, gazing at the sky. It stung my eyes. Last night, no time even to notice.
After a shift, I move like a machine getting home. Unlock the door. Kick off my shoes. Drop my bag. Lean against the wall. Close my eyes. Let out a sigh of relief—the day's done.
That's when my phone buzzed. Mobile messenger notification. Probably the group chat with friends. I grabbed it absently.
No. A chat room I'd never seen.
Sender: Yi Hyang.
I blinked. Double-checked the screen. Single-character name. Rare these days. A three-syllable one might've felt less odd. Single names exist, sure, but this stood out.
Strangely familiar, though. Like I'd heard it before.
I stared at the screen. Prank? People pull all kinds these days. But the tone felt dead serious. Like a patient charting their history.
I rubbed my eyes. Read it again. Night fever. Persistent cough. Hemoptysis. Classic combo. Even for a prank, you'd need medical know-how to fake that.
Half joking, half professional instinct, I typed back.
I froze. Night fever. Chronic cough. Blood in sputum. Weight loss. Textbook tuberculosis.
Can't diagnose on that alone, sure. Could be pneumonia, bronchial issue, other lung disease. Real patient? I'd auscultate, check chest X-ray, CT. But TB? Top suspect.
Odd phrasing. Terse, almost archaic. Not modern chat lingo. No emojis, no trailing ellipses. Just the essentials.
I scrolled up. This didn't feel like a prank anymore. Someone chronically ill, describing real symptoms. Not some half-assed imitation.
But common sense? Screamed no. Random stranger DMing symptoms? Insane.
I pondered, then replied.
I chuckled. Prank? Committed one. Real? Just go to a hospital.
Still, my eyes lingered on the name. Yi Hyang. Uncommon. Felt like I'd encountered it before—not just rare.
Like it was already filed somewhere in my brain.
Grabbed the phone again. Name nagged. Opened search.
Hesitated. Typed: Yi Hyang.
> Korean broadcaster
> 5th King of Joseon: King Munjong.
I stared. Frowned slightly.
Yi Hyang (1414–1452): 5th King of Joseon, King Munjong.
Suddenly wide awake, like last night was a day off, not a brutal shift.
Joseon's 5th king, Munjong. Birth name: Yi Hyang.
I looked up slowly. Back at the phone. Messenger still showed: Yi Hyang.
History buff here. Pre-med days, anyway. Took history electives like a humanities major. Central Library history stacks. All-nighters on Joseon Annals site. Knew the kings cold.
Why didn't it click sooner? Blame the exhaustion.
Sharpened my mind, rifled memories. Yeah, Munjong—YI HYANG.
I muttered low.
"No way..."
Stared blankly at the screen for ages. Joseon's 5th king, Munjong. Birth name Yi Hyang. Absurd. Kings don't text. No smartphones in Joseon.
Dry-washed my face. Still there in the app.
First thought: elaborate prank. Munjong. Sejong's eldest. Frail king. Reigned just 2 years. How sick was he?
Sighed deep. Messaged "Yi Hyang," presumed Munjong.
Shinmi year. Familiar from Shinmiyangyo. Sexagenary cycle, seen it in history books endlessly. But exact AD year? Not instant recall.
Fired up my laptop. Typed: Shinmi year.
> Most recent: 1991
"No..."
Not 1991. That's modern. Cycle repeats every 60 years. Back further: 1931 Manchu Incident... 1871 Shinmiyangyo... 1811 Hong Gyeong-nae Rebellion...
Further down. 1451.
Finger froze. Year after Munjong ascended.
Chill up my spine.
"Shinmi year. Wait, that's not the point..."
New tab. Typed the familiar URL.
Annals of the Joseon Dynasty
Searched: Munjong.
Munjong Annals, Volume 13, Munjong 2nd Year, 9th Month, 1st Day (Gyeongin) — Entombed at Hyeonreung.
Leaned back, eyes on screen. No coincidence now.
Shinmi year. Yi Hyang. Frail king Munjong. Those symptoms.
Grabbed phone.
Neck prickled cold. Munjong had less than a year left. Annals partly lost in Imjin War—his exact cause debated. Carbuncles, sepsis? Frail constitution piling symptoms? But our chat? Pulmonary TB screamed likely.
No firm diagnosis possible. But docs always suspect the probable first.
My job now: best advice with what I had.
Checked Munjong Annals, Shinmi 11th month.
Munjong Annals, Volume 10, Munjong 1st Year, 11th Month, 22nd Day (Byeongjin) — Office of Royal Scribes petitions to cancel tomorrow's court due to His Majesty's indisposition.
11th month, 22nd—matched today. Eerie.
No entry for 23rd.
Closed the laptop slow. Dawn lightened outside. Needed sleep, any at all.
Eyes closing, last glance at the app. Yi Hyang.
As doctor, history nerd—wanted to save Munjong. No, Yi Hyang.
But before the thought settled...
I crashed into sleep.